


paradise by the dashboard lights

by O Lord Heal This OAbsalom (OAbsalom)



Series: if i'm sincere today, what does it matter if i regret it tomorrow? [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Crack, Discord: O Lord Heal This Server, I regret everything, Masturbation, Sex with a Car, The Bentley is NOT Sentient, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OAbsalom/pseuds/O%20Lord%20Heal%20This%20OAbsalom
Summary: Crowley watches a television programme and gets confusing ideas about the Bentley.It's explicit. It's wet. It's the worst. I'm not sure if I hate myself for writing this or I'm writing this because I hate myself.
Relationships: The Bentley & Crowley (Good Omens), The Bentley/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: if i'm sincere today, what does it matter if i regret it tomorrow? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733320
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	paradise by the dashboard lights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [**Not-So-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies**](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/OLHTCrack) **(née _Perfectly Horrid Velocipedes_ )** wherein _O Lord Heal This (Discord) Server_ gets together with a terrible, ungodly crack prompt and writes our ~~best~~ worst fic in 300 words or less, average word count 1.5k. 
> 
> Thank you, my dearest [Veevethan (vol_ctrl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vol_ctrl) for all of your amazing work putting this monstrosity of an event together, keeping everyone on track, and delegating like a boss! And a big shoutout to [nothing_goldcanstay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_goldcanstay) for all of your help organizing the event in the past!
> 
> This week's prompt: "Crowley getting sexual/horny for his car." _Winner of this week's This Made Me Horny, and I Don't Like It Award_

It started with a television programme. Something about addictions. Crowley was amused at first, this man and his red Chevy. _Snogging it_ , even. Relations with a car - who had tempted him into that! Had to have been Hastur, Ligur didn't even know what a car was. Or maybe he came up with the idea on his own. So very absurd what some humans will do.

It wasn't long before it was time to meet up with Aziraphale. He strode out of his flat. Got in his car. A quick flash of word association brought the amusement back to mind. Naturally his thoughts floated to the Bentley, and suddenly... It wasn't so absurd anymore. Sure, with some random _Chevy_ , it didn't make any sense. But this was _the Bentley_ , after all. He slowly raised his hand and ran it along the dashboard. He shook his head laughing, put the car in gear, and drove off to the bookshop. 

Sometime much later, he slinked back into the driver's seat, pulling the wide door behind him. His thoughts jumped instantly to his previous considerations.

_You knooow.. Maybe?_

Well. He couldn't see the harm in just _masturbating_ in the car. He's masturbated plenty of places! Nothing at all different about this. 

Nowhere to do this outside his flat; people didn't exactly like you touching yourself in public, however shrouded by antique steel. He glanced side-to-side along his route until he found the perfect alley. The car couldn't quite fit, but that didn't matter - it did anyway. 

_Let's see, little bit of music..._

The first CD proved to have been in the glove compartment too long, the tones of all-too-familiar _Made in Heaven_ rolling out of the speakers. He muttered abuse at no one in particular for the phenomenon and tossed the CD into the back seat. It landed on a pile of others that had also been corrupted and now only bore the tenor of Freddie Mercury. He twisted his wrist in the air a couple of times until he was holding a new disc. Something soothing.

He shifted awkwardly on the seat. This didn't have to be weird. He slipped the car into neutral and his dick from his pants. Closed his eyes. Focused on the sound of the engine. _This isn't weird._ It _did_ feel oddly nice to hear the purr of the engine, imagining the pistons pumping up and down. Now that was an image. It felt _good._ He pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator, ripping a roar from under the hood.

"Oh. My. **_God._** " Crowley blessed, the fingers of his left hand squeaking against the leather of the seat, right fist working his cock hard and fast. 

Half of him was ready to get this over with and forget the bizarre incident ever happened. The other half, though...

He slowed his stroking, caressing the steering wheel he'd gripped now for almost a hundred years. He chewed his lip and snapped his fingers to lose his trousers altogether. He threw his legs up on the dash, crossing them around the steering wheel. A little bit of an awkward position that required a bit of ungraceful maneuvering, but he'd been in worse. He tucked the wheel just under his balls, closed his eyes, and imagined the engine revving - and of course it did immediately. His imagination hadn't failed him yet. He moaned and pressed into the vibration, stroking his cock. With a thought, he slicked a finger, teased his arsehole, dipped it in. 

_Mmmm_...

He ground against the wheel, added a second finger, and fucked himself with abandon, legs wrapped around the steering column. He was enjoying himself much too much to worry about anyone hearing him shouting. Could this get better? How could...

_Oh._

He made a decision then. This was happening. 

Dismounting from the dash, he ran a loving hand over the steering wheel then asked it to please excuse him. It vanished from the console, and he glanced down to his right[[1](%E2%80%9C#note1%E2%80%9D)]. The angle would be tricky, but he could make it happen. He was a snake after all. One elbow on the dash, one hand gripping the door. He'd done this before with people, he could...

He lowered slowly on the gear stick, his face contorting in pleasure, releasing an inhuman, guttural groan. The engine revved hard, shaking the rod inside him. 

" _Hhhhh_. _Holy **shit**_ ," he moaned. He lifted himself and plunged back down, the teardrop knob spreading him apart. Filling him up. There was no way to take this slow. He braced his feet, held tight to the dash, curled his hand around the windowsill. He rode hard, angling in best he could in the close quarters to hit his prostate on every downstroke, precome dripping down his cock and lube dripping down the gear stick.

_Just a little... a little... a lit--_

He came powerfully, icing the driver's seat and floorboard. He hung there, suspended by his arms, wide-eyed and panting. What had he just done? 

He cleaned the interior with a snap and restored his trousers and the steering wheel. Sat there stupefied for a moment. 

_I don't have to feel weird about this. I... I just have a new hobby, that's all._

He backed out of the alley and made his way home, parking in a spot that was admittedly a little more out-of-the-way than usual, but oh did it have some good cover...

**Author's Note:**

> 1 The 1929 Bentley's gear stick was on the right hand side despite being right hand drive. I was deep in bookland when I wrote this one, so the 1929 won out over the 1933. That and it provided much better leverage, hahaha. [[return to the horror](%E2%80%9C#return1%E2%80%9D)]


End file.
